suck it up
by lucreziadormentaire
Summary: In retrospect, Keith's day could've been a lot better – He busted his plumbing, failed his Calculus class, realized he'd been lusting after his TA for weeks, crashed his favorite motorbike, got his nose broken, and he kind of assaulted a patrol officer… together with the ridiculously good-looking guy who he almost choked to death. Definitely could've gone better. (Multichaptered)


an: i dont own voltron. if i do klance would be canon

* * *

It was Friday. Keith had always look forward to Friday, 'cause he only got one class in the morning and he could laze around in his room all noon until it was his shift at the carwash.

So, in retrospect, Keith's day could have gone a _lot_ better. Not that he counted himself as an unlucky person, but usually things don't just go from 10 to 100 that fast. He'd heard the saying _misfortunes never come singly_ , but he'd been taking his life for granted up until now. He woke up drenched in sweat and with a hard-on – and he didn't get that often, alright? Keith's a normal healthy guy but usually a normal healthy guy doesn't dream about their obviously straight male TA in a… rather abstruse situation. He barely fantasizes about anyone, _ever_. Confused Keith hopped off the bed to wash his face and clear his slightly chaotic state of mind when his sink had another thing coming. Okay, maybe broken pipes happen to anyone – no big deal. But still, Keith was so not looking forward to going home and not being able to use his bathroom. Right, whatever, he could just avoid his responsibilities and hang out at the local 24-hour convenience store.

But one thing for sure – he did not prepare himself for actually falling his class, and it was Calculus III, no less.

"Shit happens, my dude." The guy who'd been sitting next to him the entire Classical Physics class told him, but fuck him, he ain't the one who's stuck with Iverson's class for another _entire_ year. Keith was starting to think that maybe his dream of applying for NASA's Astronaut Candidacy Program was nothing but idiotic.

"Look, okay, I'm the best in class. Honestly. You can't do this to me." Keith tried to reason, barging into the lab like his life depends on it.

Iverson barely looked his way. "Mr. Kogane, uh,"

"Keith."

"Keith. Right. You don't even come to class." Iverson told him flatly. "You never take notes – _hell_ you don't even bring anything to class."

"But I took the tests!"

"I'm sorry, Keith, can't help you." Iverson dismissed him, waving him away. "I will not have a crook in my class, let alone one who took it for granted. Better luck next year."

Keith exited the room grunting, pulling at his hair. Yea, it couldn't be worse than this, he thought, but then he saw Mike – Michael – or whatever his name was. He had to walk through the stupid halfway right when Keith was trying not to think about him. _God_ even when Keith was distressed Mike was still the embodiment of sexy. Like, before he met Mike, Keith had always thought he had zero interest in other people, but then he was assigned to that goddamned TA and Keith had to actually will himself to stop staring at those long neck and strong arms. It didn't help that Mike always tucked his stupidly thin shirt into his devilish tight-ass jeans (Emphasize on the _ass)._ He was _evil_ and Keith was just a healthy teenage boy, you know?

"Good morning Keith," Mike greeted him and Keith's heart skipped a fucking beat. _Shit._ Those stupid dimples should be illegal.

"Uh, yeah," Keith managed weakly, forcing himself to smile despite the growing fantasies in the back of his mind. Stupid wet dream. "I think it's not fair that they assigned you as a TA because clearly, who'd be able to focus on the material when you keep flexing and pulling your chest like that? I mean, Mike, I like you, but seriously, stop it before I lose my mind." Keith wanted to add, but he swallowed it all like he would swallow a spoonful of cinnamon. So Instead, Keith said, "Heading for class?"

"Nah, I've just finished one, actually." He looked to the side and Keith took the time to appreciate his jaw.

"Nice," Keith muttered – completely out of his mind.

Mike turned his face back at him, one eyebrow raised. "Sorry?"

"No – Nothing!" Keith stammered. Mike smiled, bright and genuine, and Keith felt bad about the dream. Again, it resurfaced in his mind. "Just, uh, talking. To myself."

"Haha, then I'll see you around, yeah?" And then Mike left, just like that. Keith was checking out his ass as he left, casually thinking about how Mike's a lot more talkative in his dream. Also by then Keith might've accepted the fact he was a wee bit queer. Sure, He slept around with girls on casual hook-ups, but they were all mostly under the influence of alcohol. Never knew what guys tasted like and boy was he curious.

Sexual awakening was not that bad of an experience, all in all. At least he knew what to expect from today onward.

But there are worse things than just finally realizing your sexual orientation. Crashing into an antique blue 1957 Cadillac, for example.

Now, Keith would never even have dreamed of owning a single car, much less a fucking _Cadillac_. But Keith worked in a carwash, he knew his shit, and Keith knew when he majorly fucked up. He would rather be thrown into the road and lose consciousness than to deal with… whatever this is.

The crash wasn't fatal, but it sure as hell was loud. He managed to hit break before worst comes to worst, yet his headlight still banged the stupid car's side head-on, glass shattered down the road. He could hear blood rushing into his head, the sound echoing inside of his head. His hands were shaking but he couldn't care less; he quickly mounted off his bike, walked into the driver's door, fucking rip that door open, grabbed a fistful of blue-colored fabric and pulled the driver into his personal space.

"Where were you looking?!" he found himself shouting out of his lungs – he didn't care much about the commotion gathering around him. Oh Jesus, Keith could've started this with less violence but Keith is not Keith if he's not being rash, right? Patient was never Keith's strongest point. Things went south pretty quickly right after that.

"What the hell dude, back off!" said the tall, tan, and pretty boy emerging from the car. He shoved Keith away, face just as red as Keith's. "You were speeding!"

"Yeah? Well you can't just abruptly stop at an intersection!" Keith stepped closer again, but the guy pushed him away with a single hand and walked over to where Keith's bike was. Again, Keith wished he had crashed hard enough to actually put him into an ER.

" _Oh my God_." The boy blanched, one hand flew over the massage his temple. "You will have to pay for this, buddy _._ I just got it out from the insurance!"

Keith was screaming. In his head. There was a huge dent right at the side of the car, just next to the passenger door. There was no way he'd be able to afford a car's paint job, and with his bike out of it too, that'd mean double the expenses. Keith bit his lip in anger, ineptitude, _disdain._ He loved his bike. _Loved,_ loved it so much it was kind of weird – but it was the first thing he was able to buy using his own money and he was so, so proud of himself back then. Keith had managed to take care of it pretty well despite his unhealthy habit of late-night racing, and now everything came crashing down because some idiot missed his turn and blocked the goddamned road.

"It's not my fault – a, and what about my bike!?" Keith whirled around, facing the idiot in question, fury burning in his eyes.

The boy in blue gaped at him, eyes wide and jaws-slacked, like Keith had just offended his entire family. " _Not your fault?_ " He hissed through gritted teeth. "Even a monkey could figure out who's to blame here, _ese_."

"Yeah. A monkey would've known how to _fucking_ drive." Keith jabbed his finger into the taller man's chest, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Do you even have a driver license, kid? Or did your daddy gave you permission to make a fool out of yourself like he gave you fancy toy to play with?"

"O-ho. You watch that pretty mouth of yours, country boy." The boy shoved him again – rather forceful this time – before balling his fingers into a fist. "Your stupid bike's not even worth my single penny."

And then Keith saw _red_. The next thing he knew was the soft skin connected to his knuckle, pushing the boy in blue back rather violently. He heard people gasped, screamed, and his own harsh breathing.

"You little shit," the boy lurched forward before Keith could even comprehend the entire situation – mind was all blank until he felt a strong punch in the gut and he bend forward, hands around his belly. Holy _shit_ it hurt like hell. Guy could definitely pack a punch. Keith was, undeniably, regretting on acting based on his impulse alone. There had got to be _better_ ways to solve this. But not returning that heck of a punch did something to his pride, so Keith staggered to blue's direction, gloved hand balled into a fist; before delivering a hook right into his perfectly-shaped jaw. He heard a rather loud grunt; making his chest swell with superiority.

"Okay, th – that's enough, listen," Keith wheezed, out of breath, trying to find his footing. His whole body ached, hands numb.

But of course, boy in blue got another agenda. Before Keith could even calm his breathing down, _Caddy boy_ was already in front of him, the fist right into the center of his face blocked his view.

Keith heard a crack. Everything was black for a solid 3 seconds.

He tasted blood. Not just in his mouth.

He snapped.

So, there goes his levelheadedness. Strength-wise, Keith definitely triumphed. This could be proven by the way Keith kept the boy down with his back on the ground, gloved hands curling around his tall, slim neck. The more the boy struggled the more he squeezed, nails digging into honey-colored skin and all Keith could hear was his own breathing, ragged and short. He didn't hear the boy underneath him squeaking. Didn't hear the siren blearing in the background.

He saw red, red, red. Like some kind of an alarm going off inside of his head. Felt nothing but rage. He really should have taken that anger management class Shiro suggested.

He felt strong pair of arms around his middle, pulling him away from the boy and forcing him to stand up. He fought it though, until all the white noises died down and he could hear it, a voice reaching out to him.

"Stop it – both of you!"

Keith tilted his head, looking around his shoulder at the man keeping him in place. A police officer. Someone called the fucking police on them. But _of course_ someone would do that, who is he kidding? Damned it all to hell.

"Let me go – he started it!" Keith still had the friggin' nerve to voice his thought out loud. He congratulated himself in the back of his mind. He struggled to break free, but the officer was kind of twice his size. Futile attempt. Within the corner of his eyes he saw the stupid-ass rich kid slowly getting up, choking on air and Keith was once more consumed with rage. "He broke my nose!"

"You crazy psycho was actually trying to kill me!" the boy exclaimed, and then Keith saw it. The moment the boy's fist connected with his own face, like time was intentionally slowing down so he'd see his own idiotic mistake. _Like Keith needed a freaking reminder_.

And then time out for Keith Kogane. _Ding ding._ 1 – 0.

x

Keith thought he died. Because he was shown a flashback of his first attempt in illegal racing, where he hit a big-ass tree and almost lose all of his teeth. Ouch. It was hell back then. Good thing there was no boisterous family members or relatives to actually tell him off and ask him to stop. Well, there was Shiro but Shiro was fine as long as Keith's moving and breathing. Keith is a big boy, he once said. And a big boy should know which is the right thing to do and which is not. Okay so maybe that was Shiro's attempt to tell him off but Keith could live with that. Whatever.

The next flashback was that son-of-a-bitch with the Caddy wearing oversized blue hoodie and jeans that hung low on his hips. He was hot, Keith didn't even want to deny no matter how angry he was, kind of bratty but still hot. And minus the personality, he drove a nice car so there's that. In different situation Keith would've tried to strike up a conversation with him, maybe give him his phone number and go out on a couple of dates ('cause what the hell, Keith was gay as hell now) but alas, Keith drove his bike right into the silly car. And now he was going to die because of a fist up his face. What a mess.

x

When Keith came through he was settled at the backseat of a car – a patrol car, to be exact. And as expected, his whole body was throbbing with pain. If his nose could scream it probably would. He'd been through worse, but pain is still pain and Keith definitely loathed it. The entirety of his mouth tasted tangy. He tried to move his head with a low grunt, relieved that he could still feel his neck. When he tried to wipe the dried blood from his face however, his left hand felt like it weighed tons. He whipped his head facing the side, saw the Caddy boy right next to him looking like he drank bad juice for breakfast – whatever – and brought his gaze to his left hand. He gasped audibly.

"This is bullshit!" Keith pulled his body forward, gesturing towards his left hand, which was _wonderfully_ cuffed to Caddy boy's right hand. "You can't do this, how can you cuff me with someone who I literally choked, like, minutes ago?" he stole a glance to the rearview mirror, but the officer paid him no heed. He whirled his head around, fixing the sulking boy next to him a glare.

"You! I can't believe – "

"Shut up, alright!? Do I look like I'm enjoying this?!" The boy snapped, veins popping on his temple.

Keith growled, but leaned back into the seat all the same. He wanted to sulk, fold his arms or something, but every single time he tugged his left arm, the other boy did as well and the two of them were stuck trying to yank each other's arm off.

"Look sir." The Blue Kid Wonder broke off the silence, voice piercing through the soft hum of car. "We're going to make up, alright? Just drop us off and uh, we'll shake hands or something. And we'll fix the whole ordeal ourselves. How's that sound?"

Keith rolled his eyes dramatically. What do you take this for, a kindergarten?

"Sir. Come on. Please don't take us to the station. I'll – I'll pay –"

"We're going to the station?!" Keith coughed, choking on his own spit. _Ridiculous._ "I am not going to the station!" Keith had enough police officers down on his tail, and he was getting extra tired with going in and out the juvie. Police station was the _last_ place he wanted to be in. Especially when someone he knew worked there.

"Yes, see? I had enough problem with this… guy with a stupid mullet crashing into my car here, you can't do this to me sir," the boy pleaded, voice edging on desperate.

The officer, who clearly looked like he had enough of this shit, squeezed the steering wheel like it could save his life. "If you guys won't shut your traps I will do something you will definitely regret." He snapped, and what do you know, the two boys effectively shut up.

Keith knew the LAPD station like the back of his hand (and no, not a good thing). Which was why he was so not looking forward on getting out of the car. But he did, 'cause the big fat meanie officer made him. (Poor guy was only doing his job)

The officer made them follow him outside of the parking lot and to the front entrance of the building. Keith exhaled loudly, swaying on his feet. He was in the middle of sorting his thoughts together, listing out all possible custodies he'd be charged with, when Caddy boy stopped dead in his track, curling his right hand into a fist. Keith watched him carefully, quiet, and then their eyes met. With his mind all clear and sane, Keith could see just how blue and _pretty_ the other boy's eyes were, like soft waves along the ocean of his life. They were quiet for a while, exchanging knowing look. Caddy boy lowered his brows, trying to disclose something.

It was diminished – like a small flicker of fire but Keith got it.

He nodded.

Caddy boy nodded back.

They climbed up the stairs to the front door. Keith reached out his free hand. "Uh, sir…?"

When the officer looked behind his shoulder, Keith grabbed that chance to yank the poor guy down by the shoulder with enough strength to actually had him rolling down the staircases. Keith had no time to panic when Caddy boy swiftly yanked on Keith's wrist to pull him away from the scene before the officer had enough time to regain his footing.

They ran and ran. Ignoring the noises two, ten feet behind them. They ran until Keith couldn't feel his legs, until the strong wind was no longer blocking him but urging him to go further, faster, and then he felt warm hand around his – and for the first time since forever, Keith felt no restrictions.

"Dude, that was not what I had planned!" he said, but Keith could hear the smile on his voice.

"Nothing goes the way you planned," Keith replied absentmindedly, a little out of breath. "Shit happens."

"So, what now?" the Caddy boy – goes by the name Lance, by the way – said, once he swallowed enough air for an entire week, maybe. His voice had lost its edge, sounding more exhausted than anything. Like he wished everything would just solve itself and he'd just go with it. Keith couldn't agree more.

Keith had one hand on his hips, gasping for air. The fact that their vehicles were confiscated totally slipped through their stubborn heads. That's what you get when you were high on adrenaline, Keith guessed. "Let's just get this stupid thing off first." Keith lifted his cuffed hand, inevitably pulling Lance's hand with it. The metal chain rang between them.

"You know how?" Lance eyed him doubtfully. "Actually, what is it with you and the police? You were freaking out man."

"Me?" Keith bit back incredulously, like Lance'd grown a second head. "What about _you_? No one is sane enough to actually bail while being _handcuffed_."

"Look, me and police station – we don't mix well. Especially when they decided to throw my dad in the loop. Terrifying." Lance explained. "But let's skip the details, you said you were going to get this thing off? Please continue,"

"Well, not me. Someone I know." Keith chewed the inside of his cheek. "Let's hope they'd cooperate. Their place is not that far."

"So, we walk?"

Keith raised an eyebrow. "Duh. What other choice do we have?"

"With this thing on. _Out in the street_ ," Lance gestured at his hand, surprised that he actually sounded reasonable for once. That fact slipped right out of Keith's mind too. Shit. It had been brought to his attention that during the time they were running for dear life Lance had been grabbing into his hand all the time. The thought made his face flush a light tint of pink.

"Y – You got any better idea?"

"I suggest we run, but my legs feel like jelly so I don't know if it's a good idea or not." Lance shrugged. Keith almost voiced out his agreement, _almost_ , when Lance linked their fingers together, his touch feathery soft, like he was testing the water. Keith was too taken aback to actually react properly, so Lance continued; clasping his long, calloused fingers around Keith's own. "Or you know, we could do this and if I pull on my sleeve just a bit – "

"Okay." Keith breathe out. "Okay, this is good." He repeated, firmer this time. "Just don't get any funny ideas – I hate you, you're still in my shit list."

"Ha, and you're in my bad-hair-day list, mullet head." Keith glared at Lance, but all he did was laugh. His voice was clear and was ringing inside of Keith's head and he hated it. Not because it was an awful sound, but because it was completely the opposite. They inched closer to the entrance of the alleyway, hiding behind the liquor store's shadow. "Anyway, Biker Boy – "

"Keith." Keith really felt like punching a hole into a wall with having to repeat his own name thrice a day.

"Right. Keith. Please tell me you actually have your phone and wallet with you because I left mine at the car."

"You _what?"_ Keith whipped his head around, staring down at Lance in disbelief.

"Yeah, and I'm getting kind of thirsty so…"

"That's not the fucking point Lance, you ridiculous imbecile!" Keith yanked their joined hands, hard, pulling lance forward. "If they got your stupid ID they'd freaking look all over town for you – oh my God I'm cuffed to a criminal I can't believe how bad the day's get."

"Hey! We're in this together!" Lance bellowed. "And we sure as hell have to, if we want to get our vehicles back!"

Keith rubbed his face with his free palm as the realization dawns on him. "Right. Fine. Jesus."

"So?" Lance shrugged his shoulder, head tilting a little to the left. It was kind of cute.

"Yea, I got my wallet with me. Will a short trip to seven-eleven finally zip your yap?" Keith said with a tired exhale. Lance responded with a slight nod and a mouth-zipping gesture.

x

Shiro lived near the station, it's more convenience that way, he told Keith once. The rent was high and the shops around there were awful. Keith was more a downtown kind of guy. Besides Keith had no such money.

He let Lance's hand go like Lance'd burned him once they were inside of an elevator in Shiro's apartment building. His left hand was all sweaty and sticky; Lance complained about how uncomfortable his glove was and Lance was all kind of noisy that he deliberately took it off. Now there was this unnerving feeling of emptiness that made his hand all twitchy. He shook the weird feeling off, digging around for keys inside Shiro's potted plant.

"Are you sure about this? Assaulting an officer _and_ breaking in?" Lance looked at him doubtfully. "You're not really from a biker gang, or are you?"

Keith wordlessly fished out the key, opened up the door lock and tugged Lance inside of the flat. Lance looked wary, like he'd just step inside a lion's den. Well, he might as well, considering what kind of predicament they were in.

"He'd probably be back around six… something. In the meantime let's think of how we're gonna get our ride back and maybe have some coffee." Keith said nonchalantly, pulling Lance into the living room and went through all the drawers he could laid his eyes into. Lance looked all kind of terrified.

"I – I don't know dude. Just how well do you know this person? They your lover or something?" Lance glanced around, engraining the scenery into his memory – you know so in case Keith tried to murder him again he could at least find something to defend himself with.

Keith snorted, like it was the last thing he'd imagined Shiro as. "No, now search up."

" _What?_ What are you looking for even?" Lance's voice was a note higher, Keith noticed.

"Keys? Cuffs? Anything." Keith explained, pulling Lance across the room to find another drawer. "Shiro's a police so he should have them lying around somewhere."

"What in the seven hells!" Lance was panicking now. "We just ran from one, and – and now we intentionally broke into one of their houses?!"

Keith huffed out a breath. He closed his eyes, weary and perturbed, before bringing his gaze back to Lance. "Look. Shiro's like a brother to me, alright? Technically, he _is_ but I don't really want to talk about it so just… I dunno. Chill?" Keith threw his hands, bringing Lance's own with him. "He loves me, he's going to help us out. Hopefully with the car too."

"I dunno man, I'm not sure about this." Lance chewed on his bruised lips – probably caused by Keith's hook, ha – and his eyes darted around the room. "I think this is a bad idea."

"It's the best one we have. Unless, you can come up with a better one, but I don't think so."

Lance frowned. "Yeah, but no matter how much he cares about you, he'd probably do the rightest thing and that is us at the police station. so."

"I'll just explain it to him and he'll understand, alright! Now go look into the cupboard!"

"Sheesh, alright Mr. Grumpy Pants."

It turned out that, – oh, how Keith _loathed_ to admit it but – Lance was right.

Shiro got home earlier that day and was pleasantly surprised when he saw Keith there, but then he saw the cuffed hands and he got this Disappointed Shiro Look™ that Keith hated so much. So, like he told Lance before, Keith tried to explain it to Shiro. Tried to reason with him because to Keith Shiro was his most supportive brother and they were always at the same emotional par. _Always_.

So Keith really didn't understand when the Disappointed Shiro Look™ didn't leave his face, only it got worsened. He explained it the best he could, used the playing victim card, and even avoided telling him straight that he kind off tried to attempt a murder (much to Lance annoyance).

At the end of the story, Shiro sighed and hunched his shoulder. He looked extra worn-out and disheartened, at Keith, mostly, and Keith's heart sank. He never wanted to disappoint Shiro – been kinda the whole point of the day. Never wanted to make Shiro looked at him with a mix expression of _pity_ and dismay.

"You guys are coming with me to the station first thing tomorrow. No buts. We're going to solve this as soon as we could, and orderly." Was the first thing Shiro said in forever.

"But Shiro – "

"Keith." Shiro reprimanded him, a hand on his shoulder. "I don't know why you thought you could get away with this, but there are things that you can and can't do, and this is one of them. Also, we're going to the hospital to get your nose fixed after that." Keith scoffed and found the floor more interesting.

"And you… Lance?" Shiro brought his gaze to the guy next to him, and Keith could feel the way Lance's whole body went rigid.

"Y – Yep, L – Lance Charles McClain sir." Lance stammered, and if Keith wasn't so bummed out he would've laughed.

" _That_ Lance Mcclain?" Shiro breathed out. "That explains a lot of thing. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

Keith looked up, brows brought together in bewilderment. "What, you two knew each other?"

"Well. No. Not precisely – but everyone's in the station know who Mr. Mcclain is."

"And his troublesome son," Lance added energetically, albeit a little sad. Shiro grinned wryly.

" _And_ his troublesome son." Shiro repeated. Keith threw Lance a questioning look but the boy only shrugged one of his shoulders. "Anyway you guys had dinner yet?"

The two cuffed boys shook their heads in unison, and Shiro chuckled.

"Figured. Go sit down and I'll fix you guys something. In the time being, think about what you've done."

The last thing he heard Lance said that night was, "Told ya. Bad idea."

x

Lance was oddly quiet the whole dinner. He was having trouble eating with his hand cuffed and all, and showed no complaint when Keith half-heartedly offered to help him out. He helped Keith with dishes without a word, and nodded docilely when Shiro ushered them off to bed. He seemed completely distracted; like something had been weighing on his mind.

He helped Keith take off his tacky fingerless glove, rubbed his back with washcloth and even cleaned Keith's face of traces of blood from the morning. He was gentle and careful, like the tranquil color reflected in his eyes and – oh boy they were so close Keith could feel his breath.

"That's – I think that's enough." Keith said, breaking the awkward silence between the two of them.

Lance blinked at him and shrugged. "Alright. Now turn around 'cause I gotta pee."

Keith grimaced, letting out a hissing sound before turning around facing the mirror. He felt gross and sticky, thanks to the running earlier and the handcuff making it impossible to even shrug his leather jacket off. The sound of water running didn't help either.

"So, anything you wanna tell me?"

"Huh?" Keith heard the sound of zipper closing, and Lance flushing the toilet. It was uncomfortable. Keith was uncomfortable in his own skin.

"Uh, dunno, like why are you so uncharacteristically _quiet_ when you should be running your mouth?"

Lance turned around, facing Keith now, and he was all grin and cheeky. Keith rolled his eyes. "Aww, what's that? Suddenly you like me better when I'm running my mouth?~"

"Forget I said anything. Wash that dirty hands of yours."

Lance did as told, and they stumbled to the bedroom like the idiot they are before both collapsing onto the bed at the same time. Keith could feel the exhaustion through his bone, his muscles complaining. He was not looking forward for tomorrow.

Lance melted into the bed also, sprawled on his stomach with his cuffed hand flattened underneath, his loud exhale muffled by soft layers of duvet. The two of them couldn't fall asleep at all, not even after the wall clock ticked for the nth time that night.

"I'm sweating. Sweating so fucking hard I don't know why I wore this stupid hoodie when it's almost 80 degrees out there." Lance huffed out, shifting from his previous position and laid down on his side.

"Why though?" Keith asked him.

"Heh heh. To look cool." Lance grinned. Keith stopped at that. Afraid Lance would've made him stupid too. It was silence all over again – until Lance opened his mouth – and Keith couldn't believe for the life of him what came out of it. "You know, my dad's a lawyer."

"What?" That kinda came out of nowhere.

"Well you've been kinda wondering why Shiro knew me, it was written all over your face, idiot." It was Lance's turn to roll his eyes dramatically. Keith could feel his face heat up.

"Well, uh. Yeah."

"My brother's a lawyer too." Lance continued, playing with the loose strand of the duvet. "They're like really famous and stuff. Landed with big cases most of the time. I'm the second son so they're expecting me to… follow their footsteps or something like that. I dunno. I got into law just to please them I guess. But shits not as nice as expected so I go do what a normal college guy do, y'know. Went to parties. Get myself drunk. Get drunk _and_ drive. Got caught, dad paid my bail, paid to get my shit cleared up, repeat. 'cuz I'm gonna be a _big_ lawyer and I couldn't risk getting my records dirty." Lance laughed mockingly. Keith didn't find it funny at all. "Before we, uh, met, I kind of rammed Blue into a telephone pole, you know, and my dad was _furious_."

"Blue?" Keith turned his head to the side, raising one eyebrow at Lance.

"Uh."

"You named your car _Blue_?" Keith snorted and threw his head back into the mattress, laughing so loud it bounced off the wall.

" _Ha ha_ yeah, some sense of humor you got." Lance said, annoyed, but light amusement was clear in his voice.

After a long silence Keith finally said, "Okay. I think I get it. Thanks, uh." He turned his head a little to his right, hiding his face away from Lance. "Thanks for telling me."

"Yeah, well. It's not like we're going to meet up with each other once the whole thing's cleared up so might as well."

Keith would be lying if he says he was not slightly disappointed at that. Yes, Lance was an annoyance, but he was good looking and actually very gentle and _oh Jesus_ Keith was the first one who threw the fucking punches, wasn't he. His stomach churned in an unpleasant way, if only they could've met in a different situation… He cleared his throat.

"And uh." Lance said hesitantly. "After meeting this… Shiro guy I also kind of. Understand why you were very reluctant to go to the police." Lance looked over him, Keith's eyes found his, and they locked in place. "It was him… right?"

The only sound in the room was their soft, mingled breathing until Keith finally answered, "Yeah." Keith brought his cuffed hand on top of his stomach, fingers playing with his shirt to hide his nervousness. "Shiro is… Shiro worked harder than anyone. I know that. And I know… how… _hard_ it is for him to get to where he is right now and all I do was…" Keith trailed off before shutting up completely. He looked up to the ceilings like they could grace him with an answer.

"Hey, dude, you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. I mean, it's cool we could just – "

"I was sent to juvie twice. Illegal racing, underage drinking, stupid meaningless stuff like that. But then everyone at the station know that I am Takashi Shirogane's adoptive brother and I pull stupid, illicit stunts and Shiro had to… make excuses for me everytime." Keith chuckled lowly, somehow felt like today was the most he'd ever talked within the whole year. "I was so ignorant back then, young and stupid. But then I got older and Shiro got older and I realized it hurt me so much whenever Shiro would find me at the station, sometimes bruised or drunk. He'd always look so done and tired and…"

"Keith…" Lance supported himself against his elbow to properly look at Keith. Keith refused to look back at him though, his mind racing miles an hour. He'd never told this to anyone else before, not even when he was drunk out of his mind. Never told anyone about the condition he's in or how he's getting over it. It was both easy and hard at the same time. Heavy and relieving at the same time. "So you _are_ in a biker gang. That explains the tacky clothing." Lance joked, and Keith actually smiled.

"No, stupid. It was just some stupid race. Once winning became a habit it was hard to stop. It was the easiest way to make money too," He grinned, chest filled with pride and he could hear Lance snickering. "Anyway, had my ways to avoid the cops, until, well _, Lance Charles Mcclain_."

"Ugh, what the hell, I hate my middle name – stop it." Lance groaned and Keith laughed. He hadn't laughed as hard for an entire week – felt like a huge load had been lifted off of his shoulders. Lance pouted his lips but after a while he looked somewhat… relieved. He was still hefted on his elbow, looking straight at Keith like he was something ethereal. Keith hoped he didn't blush. (he did.)

"Sorry about your nose." Lance whispered softly – so quiet Keith almost missed it.

"No, I was the one who uh," Keith swallowed thickly, feeling like he was on edge. "I'm – I'm sorry about your car too."

"Listen, I'll pay for your bike." Lance muttered. "And you don't have to worry about the car too, I'll just bring it to my friends he could fix her up – "

"What? No!" Keith sat up quickly at that, fixing the boy before him a glare. "I'm partly at fault too! And I can't even imagine what your dad would do if he finds out…"

"He'd probably cut up my allowance, worst come to worst." Lance said like it was the most natural thing to say. Keith shook his head.

"I'm not having that. Period."

"Wow, you are one stubborn ass." Lance sat up with him, chuckling to himself. "Can't say I hate stubborn guy." Keith didn't even know whether he wants to kiss him or punch him in his stupid face.

"That only makes sense – we got into this mess together so don't you try to fix this up by yourself… jerk."

Lance beamed, and it was handsome. _He_ was handsome. "Okay. So I suggest we run away. Like, right now."

"Wha – "

"I'm not hearing any excuse 'cuz your last plan sucks balls and we still ended up needing to go to the station and even after pouring my heart and soul out to you, no, I still don't want to go to the station. _Period._ "

Keith chewed his lips, and he found it hard that he could agree with Lance on an emotional level. "So what do you suggest we do?"

"We go somewhere. That's not here. And then I could look up how to unlock the stupid cuff down at YouTube or something, and then voila." Lance gestured with his hand theatrically. "A sound-proof plan."

"You know that I am doubting every single word that came out of your mouth, right?"

"I know, babe." The boy smirked before draping his cuffed hand on top of Keith's. "Better made up your mind before Shiro wake up~"

Keith threw his head back, exhaled very soundly, and prayed to whichever God out there to give him strength because he was kind of crushing at the guy who broke his nose and trusted YouTube with his life. "Fine. But we're going to my place."

"Perfect. Shall we go now, princess?" Lance offered his hand, in which Keith took with a half-hearted groan.

"As soon as you shut your mouth, yes."


End file.
